The Rope Bridge Test
by madwomanwithakeyboard
Summary: When faced with circumstances that provoke a fear reaction, subjects are likely to mistake their physiological arousal for romantic attraction. One-shot. One-sided Tris/Chris, and Tris/OFC in retrospect.


**Hi folks. Just a few notes: **

**- I have only seen the first film. I have read none of the books. But I was truly inspired. **

**- The rating given is for the odd bit of sweary lingo and descriptions of the single most offensive thing in the world, bisexuality. SHIELD THE LITTLE CHILDREN'S EYES!**

**- I don't care if this is completely out of character for Tris, or a pairing that doesn't exist in the fandom at all. It's my fanfic and I'll write what I want! **

**- As usual, all of Divergent belongs to Veronica Roth and I'm just warping it for my own amusement.**

Night had fallen. This is the only time that the Dauntless living quarters ever come close to silence, and even then, sundry background noise chunters on, keeping you awake. Footsteps loud on the metal stairs. Clanks and drips as the building moves. God forbid, the horrendously awkward and private sounds of people getting up in the night for the toilet. Those born in other factions tended to find that a thing as simple as an enclosed toilet was what they missed most about home.

Lying on her bed, Tris Prior was wide awake. Of course she was. Even back in her Abnegation days, when every day was the same as the last, and every minute an uphill trek towards the next, getting to sleep was a problem for Tris. But, surprisingly, it wasn't the gruelling combat training, strange food or cold, unfeeling leadership of Dauntless that was keeping her awake that night. No. It was the pretty, the fucking pretty, young woman in the next bed along from hers.

She smiled in her sleep, and Tris found herself smiling too. Ever since she and that bright-eyed, coffee-skinned, gorgeous girl had leapt - romantic, poetic - together into the unknown, Tris had found herself leaping into a unknown of an entirely different kind.

Christina. How one word could so quickly become associated with flowers, laughter, sunshine, and all that was beautiful on earth. Every time Tris heard that name, her stomach would swoop, and she would turn around, hoping for a glimpse at this sharp young woman in all her loveliness. Surely that name had always meant 'she of the wicked eyes, the piercing kindness, and the figure designed to make perfectly straight girls weak at the knees'.

Because Tris was, and she was quite sure about this, attracted to men. Definitely. Hell, Four had already ripped out her heart with his teeth when he released her from the net that first wild day. That flame was still burning, and threatening to blaze over into an inferno. But what she felt for Christina...it was licking away nicely alongside, a dash of orange-red in a mighty white blaze.

The rope bridge test, Tris thought. That's all this is. She remembered Caleb, in his infinite trivia-based wisdom, telling her about this one day. It was a centuries-old test carried out by a psychologist to test the circumstances necessary for an attraction to develop. The woman took a group of men across a rickety rope bridge over a great old gorge - a fucking terrifying ordeal by anybody's standards - and, once on the other side, she gave them all her phone number in case they needed to call her 'about any questions they had'. This was a ruse, of course. She fully expected them to call her and ask her out. And, of course, they did. They had mistaken their fear for romantic attraction. The frightening situation had caused them to forge a romantic bond with the psychologist.

That was what had happened here: Tris was sure of it. She and Chris could relate to each other, having both come to Dauntless from other factions, and when they were thrown immediately in at the proverbial deep end, they became attracted to one another. Tris laughed under her breath - she had forgotten herself. She had assumed that the attraction was mutual. If it were, then Chris would certainly have said something by now - she was Candor-born, after all. Tris felt a slight twinge in her stomach at the thought that they would never have a future together, but she squashed it determinedly. She would not let a silly little infatuation get in the way of making friends and getting by here. It was a one-off.

But what about Joanna? sneered a voice in her head. Joanna's face popped into her mind before she could stop it, and Tris' heart ached anew. Oh, Joanna. Between the ages of 13 and 16, Joanna had been confusing and scaring Tris, causing her to cry into her pillow each night as she mumbled the girl's name, and repeat why? why? why? like a mantra. Tris had been attracted to BOYS before this. Real, actual boys. But then there was Joanna: shy, nervous, gorgeous Joanna,whose silky-haired, alabaster-skinned and hazel-eyed beauty shone through even the drab Abnegation garb.

She was, in all respects, the perfect Abnegation girl: modest, unassuming, helpful. She so hated drawing attention to herself that Tris imagined she'd probably rather have faded into the background like a ghost, present but not visible. But Tris paid attention to her. By God, did Tris pay attention to her. She saw the way Joanna nervously tucked one flyaway brown hair behind her ear: the one untamed strand that never seemed to stay in the tight bun she wore. She knew the shy half-smile that always seemed to play on her face, caught between genuine happiness and self-conscious embarrassment at even being seen. She knew Joanna's mouse-quiet voice, her posh little accent: Hello, sir. Hello, ma'am. And how are we today?

Tris was convinced she loved Joanna. Every time they had a task together - Tris liked to try and wangle a spot beside Joanna if it were at all possible - and they would brush hands or something, Tris would blush furiously, her face throbbing like a belisha beacon. She couldn't hide it. She'd sneak a glance at Joanna - the other girl would also be red in the face, but in a subtler way. A more Joanna-ish way. Some feeling they didn't dare name glowed between them. They would never name it. They would take the secret to their graves if they had to.

Tris almost cried, there and then. She ached with longing for Joanna. They would have had more of a chance than she and Chris, but it was too late now. This 'bisexuality' thing, as Tris had decided it was, wasn't easy on a gal. Tris sighed audibly, and looked over at Christina again. Beautiful. Beatific in sleep. How fucking dare she. Tris turned over, closed her eyes, and tried to drift away.


End file.
